


Security Service

by Kangofu_CB



Series: Security Issues [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Presents, Blindfolds, Butt Plugs, Crying, Crymaxer, Edging, I hope, M/M, OKAY I THINK THAT'S EVERYTHING, Overstimulation, Praise Kink Clint, Restraints, Rimming, Vibrators, Wow, consensual loss of control fantasy, gentle dom Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19233472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: James’ face didn’t look neutral now.  It looked flushed and predatory, with wide-dilated eyes and hitched breathing, and his hand around Clint’s neck was tight, not quite painful, but controlling, and that was enough to wind Clint up just that little bit more.“Okay,” James said, carefully.  He stroked his fingers through Clint’s messy hair, scraped a thumb across the sensitive place under his ear, pressing at the hinge of his jaw.  “Okay. Take this.” He handed Clint the box back, still oh-so-careful, like he was holding onto his control by the thinnest shreds. “Wait for me in the bedroom.  Naked. On the bed.”Clint jerked to his feet like a badly-directed puppet, almost tripping over his own toes in his haste, and took two steps to the side, ready to walk around the coffee table and James to go down the hall.  James stopped him, reaching up and grabbing a handful of Clint’s t-shirt and yanked him down into a kiss that was hard and biting. Clint moaned into it, gripping the box tightly enough that his fingers were gonna go numb.“Five minutes,” James growled, when he released Clint’s shirt.





	Security Service

**Author's Note:**

> So heads up this is not yet beta/kink read/approved because I am an impatient bitch. Once that's all taken care of (it is in the process) I will come back and update the chapter. Please just avert your eyes to any glaring errors, all mistakes are always my own but they are especially my own this time. 
> 
> Written for my own depravity, Clint's birthday (JUNE 18TH GUYS) and Crymaxer Week by Mandatory Fun Day!!

Clint eyed the box distrustfully, despite that fact that it was James holding it out to him, expression expectant. 

 

“My birthday isn’t for a couple more days,” Clint said, gingerly reaching for the box, “and we agreed no presents.”

 

“No,” James said placidly, “you said no presents and I didn’t say anything.”

 

And, now that Clint thought about it, that was true. He’d said no presents and James hadn’t responded, and Clint had taken that for the agreement it apparently  _ wasn’t _ .  

 

“The party isn’t until Saturday, though.”  If dinner with their nearest and dearest could be called a party, anyway.  Clint had agreed to a small gathering at their apartment, dinner with Steve and Sam, Natasha and Maria, and that was  _ it. _  A small, intimate gathering.  James could have at least waited until then to start busting out presents, because Clint wasn’t stupid enough to think that Nat wasn’t gonna be bringing him something, however much he had protested he didn’t need anything. 

 

“It’s not exactly a polite company gift,” James said, smirking, as though that wasn’t going to set Clint’s curiosity off immediately. 

 

“It’s not like our friends are polite,” Clint grumbled, but there was a curl of arousal already building in his gut.  The box was large, but lighter than Clint would have expected for the size. James had wrapped it - or had it professionally wrapped - in deep violet paper, so dark it was almost black, with a black silk ribbon knotted around it, and Clint’s fingers were already itching to tear it open.  

 

Instead, he employed what little self-restraint he possessed and unknotted the ribbon gently, because honestly, he had  _ ideas _ for that ribbon, and then picked the edges of the tape apart until he could get the paper off in one large, mostly intact piece.  

 

James rolled his eyes.

 

Clint smirked. 

 

Under the paper was an unassuming black box, so bland that Clint knew instantly there was something entirely depraved inside.  He and James had done enough online shopping for bedroom toys that he knew only something like that could come in a box so plain.

 

Clint sucked his lower lip into his mouth, easing the lid of the box up and over the bottom to reveal its contents. 

 

Inside were several, smaller packages, all equally discreet, equally plain, a few with logos from shops he was familiar with, most without any identifiers at all.  Holy shit, James had gone all out.

 

“All of these are for me?” Clint said, glancing up to see James watching him intently. 

 

“They are,” James said.  “Just for you.”

 

And they had a modest collection of toys already.  Clint was intimately familiar with all of them, it wasn’t like he wasn’t well-versed in bedroom toys.  But most if not all of them were things James had already had when they got together, with a few additions they’d purchased as a couple or James had bought to surprise him with, and none of them were really  _ Clint’s. _  And he hadn’t known he wanted something of his own until James had handed him a box full of things. 

 

“When you’re done opening them,” James continued, “I’ll give you the rest of your gift.”

 

Well, color Clint intrigued.  

 

Clint opened the packages one by one.  There were nearly a dozen, and all of them were things Clint had looked at wistfully, or added to his cart then taken out, or put on a private wishlist that he was pretty sure James had no idea even existed, but clearly the other man had been paying attention to what Clint clicked on when he was curious, or else he just knew what Clint was about. 

 

Probably the latter, actually.

 

There were new ties - dark purple silk wrist and ankle restraints - along with a matching blindfold, a heavy metal plug that Clint suspected had a vibrate function, because there was a charging port and the box had a slim empty space that had probably contained a remote, a dildo that Clint strongly suspected was modeled after his own dick, at least one spreader bar, a glass dildo, and a few other things that made him swallow hard and his dick perk up in his pants. 

 

James was still watching him, his eyes dark and thoughtful, taking in the flush on Clint’s face and the uptick in his breathing, and he smiled, slow and filthy.  “You like it?”

 

“Yeah-“ Clint had to clear his throat. “Yeah, I do.  Thank you.”

 

Was ‘thank you’ even the right thing to say when someone had just handed you a box of toys to fuck yourself with? Clint wasn’t sure.

 

“Good,” James said, looking pleased.  “You want the rest of your present now?”

 

“I-“ Clint was torn between apprehension and excitement.  “What is it?”

 

James smirked, and then he scooted closer to Clint, pressing their knees together and leaning over the box that was still in Clint’s lap.  He dipped in for a kiss, his mouth slow and purposeful on Clint’s, until Clint was lost in the sensation of it, and then irritated with the box trapped between them, preventing him from getting his arms around James. 

 

James leaned back, just as Clint was getting ready to shove the box on the floor.  He stroked a hand along Clint’s jaw, dragged his thumb against his lower lip. 

 

“Pick whatever you want and we’ll do anything you want to do with it.  Any of it. All of it.”

 

“Huh?” Clint said, still dazed from the kissing and confused anyway.  This wasn’t how their dynamic usually worked, and he didn’t know what to do with the shift in balance. 

 

A few months into their relationship, James had sat him down and handed him a book - the equivalent of BDSM for Dummies, though it hadn’t been called that - and told Clint he should read it, at least have a little working knowledge of what they were doing.  

 

At the time, Clint had been resentful of it, had been more than happy with where their relationship and their sex life was, and he didn’t like feeling like he needed to be  _ taught _ what he wanted. 

 

He’d been wrong anyway, because, however begrudgingly he’d read the book, it  _ had _ been helpful.  It’d given him words for what he liked and what he wanted, and a better understanding of what James liked and wanted, and even if they never sat down and had an explicit conversation about exactly what either of those things were, it had been a relief to know the answers to questions Clint hadn’t even known he had. 

 

Clint had names for what he liked, what he wanted to ask for and what he couldn’t ask for but still wanted.  He had a praise kink so large it could be seen from space, and making decisions wasn’t something he typically needed or even liked to do.  

 

James, conversely, wanted to be in control and make decisions, but only ones that Clint was gonna enjoy. 

 

It worked for them.

 

This, on the other hand, wasn’t really working for Clint.

 

“You want me to pick a toy?”

 

“No,” James said, patient and gentle, “I want you to pick as many toys as you want.  I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you, or what you want to do to me, and then I want to do that.  For your birthday present.”

 

Clint thought about it.  Glanced between the contents of the box and James’ eager face and felt a little overwhelmed, but mostly he thought about what he really wanted and what he really liked and then he shook his head. 

 

“You want me to pick a fantasy,” he said, honing in on what it was James was really asking. 

 

That got him a startled blink, and then a slow smile.  “Yeah,” James agreed, dragging his hand around the back of Clint’s neck to scritch his fingers through Clint’s hair.  “Yeah, sweetheart, I want you to pick a fantasy. Anything you want, I’ll do it.”

 

And that was-

 

Well.

 

It wasn’t as though Clint didn’t have fantasies, and it wasn’t even as though he couldn’t tell James what those were, or even that they hadn’t already fulfilled a few of them.

 

But James was asking him for something a little different.  Like a secret desire. Something Clint wouldn’t normally ask for. 

 

And Clint-

 

Clint took the box out of his lap and dropped it onto James’ knees.

 

James face went neutral between one blink and the next.  He didn’t look hurt so much as he basically shut down, and Clint rushed to speak, realizing his gesture had been misinterpreted.

 

Clint knew exactly what he wanted, and he even had a name for it.  He wasn’t too sure he could say it out loud, but he could probably describe it.

 

“I don’t wanna pick,” Clint said in a rush.  “I want  _ you _ to pick.  I want-“ he took a deep breath “-I want you to tie me up and blindfold me and hold me down and do whatever you want to me.  I want-“ he swallowed roughly, “-I want you to do whatever you want, and I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna check in or answer questions or make decisions.  I’ll use my safeword if I gotta, or the colors, but I just want-“

 

Clint wanted a loss of control fantasy.  Clint wanted to be held down and used and made to take it, and he wanted to do it with James because he  _ trusted _ him. 

 

“I just want you,” he said helplessly.  “I don’t wanna be hurt, but I wanna be used.  I want you to do whatever you want without caring if it’s something I want, because I want whatever it is.  Hold me down, tie me up, fuck me, make me come or don’t let me come, it doesn’t matter. Just… whatever you want.  Wanna be whatever you want.”

 

James’ face didn’t look neutral now.  It looked flushed and predatory, with wide-dilated eyes and hitched breathing, and his hand around Clint’s neck was tight, not quite painful, but controlling, and that was enough to wind Clint up just that little bit more. 

 

“Okay,” James said, carefully.  He stroked his fingers through Clint’s messy hair, scraped a thumb across the sensitive place under his ear, pressing at the hinge of his jaw.  “Okay. Take this.” He handed Clint the box back, still oh-so-careful, like he was holding onto his control by the thinnest shreds. “Wait for me in the bedroom.  Naked. On the bed.”

 

Clint jerked to his feet like a badly-directed puppet, almost tripping over his own toes in his haste, and took two steps to the side, ready to walk around the coffee table and James to go down the hall.  James stopped him, reaching up and grabbing a handful of Clint’s t-shirt and yanked him down into a kiss that was hard and biting. Clint moaned into it, gripping the box tightly enough that his fingers were gonna go numb.  

 

“Five minutes,” James growled, when he released Clint’s shirt, and Clint hightailed it to the bedroom, careening around the corner fast enough that his shoulder hit the door jamb on his way into the room and nearly made him drop the box.  Clint hissed in pain, but didn’t slow down. He nearly tossed the box on the ottoman in his  haste , before remembering at the last second that there was at least one glass toy inside, and he placed it gently instead.  Then he stripped his clothes off with the kind of  haste that meant he heard the seams groaning in protest but he couldn’t be fucked to care.  The clothes went into the hamper, the duvet and sheet got stripped back on the bed, and Clint scrambled for the lube in the drawer of the nightstand along with a couple of towels before he settled himself on the mattress.

 

Then realized he had no idea what to do with himself while he waited.  Should he kneel? Should he lay on the bed and try to look sexy? Should he touch himself?  

 

He probably shouldn’t touch himself, 

 

James probably didn’t want him to do that.

 

Of course, now that the idea had presented itself, Clint absolutely couldn’t stop thinking about it.  And James hadn’t said  _ not _ to touch himself. 

 

Fuck it, Clint was going to do it.  James could punish him if he didn’t like it, and the idea that he might sent a shiver up his spine.  Clint wasn’t into pain, but he enjoyed a good spanking every now and then, liked being a bit of a brat to see where it got him. And since tonight was all about what James wanted to do to Clint, if he wanted to spank Clint, he absolutely could. 

 

He propped himself up on the pillows behind him and cracked the cap on the lube.  He drizzled a little over his half-hard cock, hissing at the cool sensation, and then fisted himself with no finesse.  He didn’t have enough time to tease himself, and he definitely didn’t have enough time to get off, but the idea of James walking in the room to find Clint so eager for him that he couldn’t keep his hands off himself appealed to him, so Clint pumped his cock and worked himself up to flushed, dripping hardness. 

 

A sound at the door drew his attention - Clint hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes - and he found James leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and watching Clint avidly. 

 

“Havin’ fun sweetheart?” James asked, and he didn’t sound the least bit put out with Clint.  Just warmly amused and aroused. 

 

“It’d be better if you helped,” Clint said, low and breathy, even as he dragged his fist slowly up and down his dick. 

 

“Mmmm, no,” James said, making no move to come closer, just settling more comfortably against the door jamb.  “Think you’re doin’ just fine on your own.”

 

Clint moaned a little pitifully, but he didn’t stop stroking himself, arching his hips into his grip as he sped up, working himself towards a lightning-fast orgasm.  For a little while he watched James watching him - watched his eyes get progressively darker, watched as he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, tracking Clint’s every move, and then Clint’s eyes drifted shut and all he could focus on was the squeeze of his own palm, the slippery slide of his fingers across sensitive tissue. 

 

He was gasping for air and thrusting up into his own hand, so close he could practically taste his orgasm, when James’ hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled his hand away.  Clint gasped and then groaned, his heart pounding and his dick throbbing as his orgasm was literally snatched away from him.

 

“Oh fuck,” he said - whined, really.  “Oh god, please.”

 

James didn’t say anything.  He was already stripped down to his briefs, and he just manhandled Clint up onto his knees without a word.  He stroked his hands across Clint’s back and shoulders, down his chest and thighs, until Clint was breathing more evenly, until the overwhelming need to come had eased off to a bearable ache. 

 

“You said anything I wanted,” James reminded him, when Clint was back in his right mind, when he was able to think again. 

 

“Yeah,” he croaked, swallowing around his dry mouth.  “Whatever. I want- just touch me.”

 

James had already been digging around in the box, because the first thing that happened was he wrapped the silk blindfold around Clint’s eyes, tying it carefully behind his head and blocking out all but a sliver of warm, golden light at the bottom of the fabric. Then his arms were looped behind his back and secured with soft, comfortable ties.  James wrapped them up his arms until they were nearly to Clint’s elbows, keeping his forearms pressed together and making it that much harder for Clint to move at all. 

 

Clint groaned, unable to help himself.

 

_ This, _ this was what he had wanted. 

 

To be helpless.  To be at James’ mercy.  

 

James pressed tender, biting kisses along his shoulders, stroked his hands up and down Clint’s ribs, and pressed his knees apart until Clint was resting most of his weight on his heels.  Then he pushed him forward, down, until Clint was face-first in the mattress with his ass in the air, panting for breath. 

 

The first press of James mouth against his ass made Clint jump and then groan, long and decadent.  

 

“Oh  _ fuck, _ ” he managed, gasping it into the sheets as James dragged his tongue along Clint’s hole, slow and tortuous and obscene.  James’ tongue was a goddamn torture device, lapping over him in long, slow strokes, then driving in, pressing deep and firm and opening Clint up with just the strength of it, until he was wet and sloppy and writhing as much as the position allowed.  He was choking out a string of swear words, most of them muffled by the bedding, but occasionally loud enough that he could feel James smirking against him, when he had enough presence of mind to feel anything but overwhelmed by pleasure.

 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Clint shouted, when James scraped his teeth across Clint’s perineum, when he followed it up with slow, sucking kisses to his stretched and sensitive hole.

 

James climbed over him, pressing his bare chest against Clint’s back, nipping at his neck and stroking a hand over his ribs. 

 

“No, no, fuck, don’t  _ stop, _ ” Clint pleaded. 

 

James ignored him.

 

It was a novel experience, because James never ignored him.  James checked in, James asked questions, James ensured Clint was alright every step of the way, and now James was doing  _ whatever the fuck he wanted _ and Clint felt like a goddamn livewire underneath him. 

 

Trailing kisses across Clint’s back and spine, James slid first one, and then two fingers into Clint’s body, pressing them against his prostate in unpredictable patterns, sometimes stroking lightly and sometimes pressing strong and firm and making Clint buck underneath him.  Clint could feel tears pricking at his eyes behind the blindfold and he was already begging. 

 

James’ fingers slid away, leaving Clint empty and aching and arching his back to strain for the contact, before they were replaced with something hard and cold.  Clint had the presence of mind to remember the sleek metal plug, and then it was being pushed into his body, cold metal coated in equally cold lube, making him hiss.  It got wider and wider, until Clint was squirming underneath James’ hands, until James had to press a hand into his shoulders to keep him still. 

 

It felt much wider than two fingers had.

 

“Shh,” James soothed.  “You can take it, sweetheart, just a little bit more.”

 

Clint sucked in air through his nose, bearing down and trying to force his body to relax, and James stroked a hand up and down his spine, warm in contrast to the metal.

 

There was a stretch and a burn and just as Clint was about to cry uncle, about to protest that he  _ couldn’t _ take it, the plug slipped into place, wide and firm and filling him up as it narrowed at the base and his own body clenched it into place.

 

“There you go honey, just like that,” James told him, all soft words and gentle touches.

 

Clint whimpered. 

 

James ran his fingers around his rim, where the plug was jutting out of his body and Clint was stretched around it, sensitive and on edge, while Clint writhed underneath his touch.  Then he pulled Clint up onto his knees, forcing him back into the same spread position as before, his weight resting on his calves and forcing the plug down and deeper and right into his prostate.

 

The sound Clint heard himself make was indescribable, some kind of punched-out, wrecked noise that he couldn’t remember ever making before. 

 

James shifted away from him, and Clint strained to hear, strained to listen to him.  There was the sound of cloth shifting, of bare feet padding on the floor, and then James was in front of him, kissing Clint full on the mouth, tongue and teeth and lips pressed against him.  James kissed him like he couldn’t get enough of him, like Clint was water and he was dying of thirst, and then he pulled away again, Clint unable to help the way he leaned forward, searching for contact.

 

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” James informed him, and Clint felt the mattress shift in front of him as James knelt up.

 

“Okay,” Clint agreed, tilting his head in what he thought was the direction of James’ face.

 

“Wasn’t askin’,” James told him, and then the blunt, wet head of his cock was pushing past Clint’s lips, and James was fisting his hair to hold him in place. 

 

Clint whined, short and cut off and James thrust into his face, pressing his cock all the way to the back of Clint’s throat and past it, until Clint had to either swallow or choke, until he couldn’t  _ breathe _ and Clint-

 

Clint  _ loved _ it. 

 

Loved the fullness of it, the way James was taking his pleasure like that was all Clint was there to provide, a warm, wet place for James to put his cock.

 

When James pulled back enough for him to breathe, Clint moaned. 

 

James settled into a rhythm, regular persistent thrusts, out just long enough for Clint to catch his breath, in just far enough for him to choke on it a little, for spit to dribble down his chin and make it hard to breathe and Clint was entirely enamored, entirely distracted by the experience-

 

And then James turned the mild but persistent pleasure of the plug into something Clint couldn’t possibly ignore with the flick of a switch.

 

It was a low, deep vibration, a steady pattern of rumbles that started low, gradually increased in intensity, peaked, and then stuttered back down to nothing.  It was rhythmic, matched almost exactly to the speed at which James was fucking his face and Clint-

 

Clint nearly came undone.

 

Every outstroke caused a pathetic-sounding whine now, a beg for release that James ignored as he continued to fuck Clint’s face, slow and steady, and the vibrator buzzing right up against his prostate, never enough to get him off but steadily pushing him towards the edge.  A little closer every time but not quite enough to get him there. 

 

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god,” was all Clint could manage, when James drew back long enough to listen to his babbles, sliding his thumb under Clint’s mouth to collect the spit there, and then pushed it back into his mouth, pressing Clint’s tongue down with his thumb the way he had with his dick so that he couldn’t talk any more at all. 

 

Then he shoved his cock back in and fucked Clint’s mouth harder and faster, until his dick was swelling against Clint’s palate.

 

The pattern of the plug never changed, still a slow, rhythmic vibration, like being fucked by a metronome.  

 

James came with sharp, jerking thrusts, forcing his cock deep into Clint’s throat and pulsing hot and hard in his mouth, Clint swallowing as much as he could, feeling some of it dribbling down his chin anyway. 

 

Clint was panting and wrecked when James pulled away, shivering with the sensation of the vibration, with the phantom pain of James gripping his hair as he’d shoved his cock ever deeper. 

 

The plug stopped vibrating, and Clint let out a despondent sound he couldn’t even begin to withhold. 

 

Chuckling, James leaned down, kissing Clint soft and slow, dragging his tongue inside Clint’s mouth made sensitive by having his cock in it.  He bit Clint’s lower lip, still oh-so-gentle, but firm enough to make it obvious. 

 

“Oh sweetheart,” James said, warm and fond, his hand cupped behind Clint’s ear, “you didn’t think it was gonna be that easy, did you?”

 

Clint let out a choked off little sob, and shook his head.

 

James leaned into him, reaching around to untie the knots around Clint’s forearms, pulling them back in front of him and rubbing along the tense muscles there.  He eased Clint down onto the mattress on his back, where the pressure of laying flat pressed the plug up even more against his prostate. 

 

“Honey, I’m going to  _ wreck _ you,” James promised, even as he pulled Clint’s arms up above his head and restrained them, tying them so that his wrists were crossed over his head but he could bend his elbows.  When James let go, Clint left his hands lying there, limp and pliant. James made a noise of approval. 

 

The darkness of the blindfold made everything that much more intense.  He couldn’t see what James was doing, couldn’t predict his next move, couldn’t see his face, but everything in the way he touched Clint and the tone of his voice told Clint he was cared for.  Cherished, even. 

 

James dragged his nails down Clint’s chest, catching on his nipples briefly, making Clint arch and hiss, and further down, across his abs and down his thighs, bypassing his cock entirely.

 

Clint was hard and leaking now, throbbing in time to his heartbeat, and he knew if he could see himself his cock would be an angry red, begging for release.

 

Release James was clearly not ready to give him. 

 

Clint shivered. 

 

“Cold?” James asked, running the flat of his palms back up Clint’s body where he’d just scratched his nails.

 

Clint shook his head. 

 

“You wanna come?” James asked, almost casual, flicking Clint’s left nipple.

 

Clint froze, torn between a yes and a no.  His body was screaming for release, but he didn’t want to be done, didn’t want to stop playing, and anyway he didn’t want to decide anything.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” James continued, as though he hadn’t noticed Clint’s indecision.  “You can come when I say you can, and not before.”

 

The shudder that ran down his spine was so intense Clint’s back arched into it. 

 

James huffed a small laugh and then his body heat disappeared, leaving Clint cold and seemingly alone.

 

Then a hot breath dragged along his cock and James was licking at him, making Clint buck up into the touch involuntarily, making a shocked little sound.  James wrapped his hands around Clint’s hips, pressing him down into the mattress and onto the plug and then wrapped his lips around the head of Clint’s cock. 

 

Clint whimpered, unable to help the sounds forcing their way out his throat, desperate and pleading, and then the vibrator turned back on and he shouted wordlessly.  

 

“Ah!”

 

The pattern was different this time - something low and erratic, jolting at his prostate in random intervals, not strong enough to make him come, but definitely enough to set his entire nervous system on fire. 

 

“F- fuck!” He managed, arching up on his shoulders against James’ hold and getting nowhere, even as James mouthed at his cock with lazy persistence.  

 

“Maybe,” James told him, all lazy Brooklyn drawl, “if you beg real pretty.  I might fuck you.”

 

“Oh god, please,” Clint said, unable to think clearly.  “Please, fuck, please.”

 

“Not yet,” James said, humming against Clint’s cock.  “I’m enjoyin’ myself.”

 

Clint sobbed again, and the the tears that had been pricking at his eyes earlier were dripping out of the corners now, getting soaked in the dark silk of the blindfold.  

 

James mouthed at his dick, just as unpredictable as the vibrator, sometimes sucking at the head or licking the shaft, sometimes gently taking Clint’s balls into his mouth.  He scraped his teeth along Clint’s thigh, stroking Clint’s cock as he did it, until Clint was trembling underneath him, straining into his touch, a steady stream of babble falling out of his mouth, mostly pleading or wordless begging. 

 

When Clint thought he was going to shake out of his skin, James eased off of him, kneeling up until his thighs were on either side of Clint’s, pushing his legs together, and then he leaned over him, using his left hand to hold Clint’s wrists down and the weight of his body to push his hips into the mattress. 

 

Then he turned the vibrator up. 

 

It was a hard, steady throb now, vibrating at a rolling interval, never quite stopping, just endless waves of increasing and then decreasing rumbles, like getting fucking slow and hard, and James held him down onto it, forcing his body still, forcing him to feel every single second. 

 

“I wanna watch you come, just like this,” James said, low and dirty, inches above Clint’s face.

 

Clint sobbed again, tears steadily leaking from his eyes and down into the purple silk. 

 

“Can you do that for me sweetheart?” James asked, using his free hand to thumb at the moisture on Clint’s face.  “Can you come just like this, while I hold you down and watch? And then I’ll fuck you after.”

 

Clint nodded wildly, shoving up against James’ hold like he couldn’t help it, like his body wouldn’t obey him even though he was trying to hold still, to do what James asked. 

 

The hand that had wiped the tears from his face teased lower, and then James dragged his thumb, slow and steady, from the base of Clint’s dick to the sensitive place just under the head, pressing hard there, and Clint’s entire brain lit up like fireworks.  

 

“That’s it honey, come for me.” James said, urging him on, “I wanna see you come all over yourself, you look so pretty.”

 

He stiffened underneath James, his entire body locking up in an orgasm so intense he nearly bit through his tongue, making a garbled, strangled sound as he came, and came, and came, riding the waves of the toy until his whole body was shuddering in pleasure and he could feel stripes of come cooling on his skin all the way up to his throat.

 

Clint gasped for air, shivering, still stretched wide on the plug and shuddering with aftershocks even though James had clearly turned it off already.  There was a moment of blank darkness, where Clint just swam in a sea of endorphins and didn’t think of anything, just let himself float in the soft touches of James’ fingers on his skin, on the post-coital afterglow of orgasm.  Then James was untying his hands, rolling him onto his side.

 

He left the blindfold on, though, and Clint remembered with sudden clarity that James had promised to fuck him if he came on the plug alone.  

 

He made a wrecked, hoarse sound.  

 

James paused, his face pressed against Clint’s shoulder and there was a moment where Clint was sure he was going to ask, going to check in on Clint like he usually did, and then he seemed to remember that Clint hadn’t wanted that, didn’t want to be asked anything, and instead he reached down and eased the plug out of his body.  It wrenched another strangled, high-pitched sound as his body stretched around the unforgiving metal, but he felt loose and used after it was out. 

 

There was a warm, soothing stroke down his flank, and then the faint sound of the lube cap being cracked open again, and then James was pressing back in with two fingers, stretching Clint wide again, shoving a third one in almost before he was ready.  Clint flinched and jerked, but James just used the arm that was under his shoulder to reach down and press his body closer, hold him in place.

 

Clint exhaled noisily, and then relaxed into James’ grip, forced his body to accept the intrusion, and James hold went from confining to soothing, stroking across his chest and the mess that was still there.  

 

Dragging his fingers out - and avoiding Clint’s already over-sensitive prostate - James shifted, pressing Clint’s knee up with his own thigh and then lining his cock up with Clint’s sore, stretched opening before pushing in, slow and steady and unrelenting. 

 

Clint sobbed again, his hand wrapped tightly around James’ wrist on his chest, but he didn’t protest.  Didn’t say any of the words that he knew would make James slow down or stop, because he didn’t  _ want _ James to slow down or stop. 

 

“Please,” he said, again, and he couldn’t have told anyone what he meant.

 

“I’ve got you,” James crooned, rocking his hips gently into Clint’s, pressing even deeper.  “I’ve got you.”

 

James fucked him slow and almost sweet, deep and firm, until Clint was arching back against him, clawing at his arm like he needed more, and then James rolled him onto his stomach and fucked him like he  _ meant _ it.  

 

“This what you wanted?” James growled in his ear, as Clint whimpered and whined and clawed at the sheets.  “Me to fuck you until you cried?”

 

Clint couldn’t speak, could barely draw in air, but James reached for the blindfold still wrapped mostly around his head and pulled it away, tossing it to the side. 

 

“You cry so pretty for me sweetheart,” he said, rolling his hips harder, until he was rocking against Clint’s prostate with every movement. “Always look so pretty when you’re cryin’ for it.”

 

Clint sobbed into the sheets as James fucked into him even harder, biting at his shoulders and tangling his fingers with Clint’s.  

 

Clint’s cock was dragging across the sheets, hard and damp again, oversensitive and so, so close to release.  Clint was overwhelmed, sweating and trembling and begging - or at least he thought he was begging, he didn’t know what was coming out of his mouth anymore, except James’ name and swear words and sobs.

 

“James,  _ please _ ,” he managed, finally, something that wasn’t garbled and pathetic.  

 

James got a hand around his hip, pulling him up until his back was arched and the head of his cock was dragging across the damp mess on the sheets and James was pounding into Clint’s prostate with every stroke.  

 

“C’mon,” James said, sounding out of breath himself, desperate, and something about it tripped a switch in Clint’s brain. “Come for me.”

 

Clint came again, howling into the sheets, tears streaming down his face as he pressed his ass back against James and felt him pound into him, rhythmless and brutal, chasing his own orgasm, until James shattered against him, his entire body trembling with release, and then the both collapsed onto the bed. 

 

Floating, barely aware, Clint felt a little bereft and empty as James withdrew. He allowed himself to be rolled over after a little while, let James clean him up with a warm, damp cloth and tuck him in with clean sheets, James cuddled up to him, their knees tangled together and James brushing stray hair out of his face.  Clint hummed contentedly and tucked his head under James’ chin. Soft fingers stroked up and down his spine. 

 

“Hey,” James said, when Clint finally shifted to press a soft kiss against his jaw.  “How’re you feelin’?”

 

“Feel fuckin’ fantastic,” Clint slurred, still feeling a bit punch-drunk. “Best birthday ever.”

 

James snorted a little, burying his face in the crown of Clint’s head.  “Happy Birthday sweetheart.” Clint felt the barest brush of lips against his hair. 

 

“Love you,” he mumbled, still tucked up warm in James’ arms, feeling safe and cherished and a million warm emotions he usually didn’t allow himself to have, but were shining through now, stripped as he was of his defenses. 

 

The fingers on his spine froze, stumbled a little in their stroking, and Clint had a moment of realization that he hadn’t said that before, that it wasn’t something he’d admitted - at least not to James, and barely even to himself - but before he could find the energy to get worked up about it, James’ entire body seemed to relax against him, soft and pliable. 

 

“Love you too,” James said, pressing his lips against Clint’s forehead.  

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you many muchlys to Steph for screaming in the comments, and to Amberly, who is always a gracious reader of my kinky shit so that I can make sure I'm giving it the respect it deserves. Thanks for hand-holding my vanilla ass through all of my kinky fantasies, ILU BBY


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